


Dark Hours of Catharsis

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Category: Sins of the Cities Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Fights, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 01:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: Beginning a new relationship is always hard, but Nathaniel and Justin have more complications than most. After one of many arguments, Justin decides talking is the last thing they need.





	Dark Hours of Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenThayet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/gifts).



> I offer this with SO MANY caveats. Among them:  
> 1\. This is my first attempt at writing in this universe.  
> 2\. I haven't even finished the series.  
> 3\. I have never written fan fic for a book before.  
> 4\. I have only been reading KJ Charles books for a week.  
> 5\. I have never written anything in this time period before.  
> 6\. I haven't written ANYTHING in weeks.
> 
> All of that said, these two captured my imagination in a big way, and I'd like to try my hand at KJ Charles' universes in general, so here's a start.
> 
> Endless love to [QueenThayet for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/profile) introducing me to these books!

Nathaniel knew from the start that things with Justin would be difficult. Even in the best possible circumstances, neither Justin nor Nathaniel was an easy man to be with. These were not the best possible circumstances.

Even if there were a way to control for their lives being in danger, for Justin’s home being ransacked, for the continuing bizarre drama of Clem’s family weighing on everyone, there would still be Justin’s cautious, skeptical steps toward a new profession, fighting himself (and Nathaniel) at every turn. There would still be Justin and Mark, at each other’s throats. There would still be Sukey, peering and suspicious of Nathaniel’s every move.

It would be easy to blame Justin’s prickliness and lack of faith for everything, but Nathaniel knew he was half the problem. He hadn’t realized, until he started to slowly let Justin through it, just how thick a wall he’d built around himself. He’d forgotten how to conduct the most basic parts of a relationship--not just how to fuck, though he found himself woefully out of practice there, but how to co-exist. How to remember someone else cared where you were and what you were doing. Given Justin’s natural distrust, it left them making a hash of things as often as not.

They were fumbling along like two blind men in a thick London fog, constantly stepping on one another, then forced to backtrack and start again. Sometimes, as if by accident, they got it right. Sometimes they found each other in the dark and slotted their bodies together in a way that seemed as natural as anything ever had. More often, though, was bumping and confusion and misunderstanding, both of them too hard-headed to stop once they’d engaged.

So it was that Nathaniel found himself at the Jack and Knave without Justin, pouring out his troubles to Phyllis. He and Justin had fought--again--and as usual, they both said things that left ringing echoes in Nathaniel’s ears. He was so tired--tired of the arguments, tired of the million other dramas, petty and otherwise. Tired of feeling his life fluctuate around him as if he exercised no control over any of it.

“Is this how it is for everyone, Phyl?” Nathaniel peered at her over his gin. He was in several glasses already, the lines beginning to blur. “With Tony, it was so easy. We were just...together, fitting perfectly. No rough edges to smooth.”

Phyllis smiled, part sharp-shrewd, part fond. “That is not precisely how I remember it.” She tipped the gin bottle into Nathaniel’s glass again. “Tony was as close to a saint as I have ever known, but don’t delude yourself into believing he never sat where you are now, telling me how hard it was to put up with you.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened, so Phyllis continued. “He loved you beyond reason. But he saw you for who you are. And he said some of the same things about you that your kiter says now. Always knowing what’s best for everybody else, making their decisions for them.”

Nathaniel started to bristle, but he felt the truth of the words. Phyl continued again before he could respond. “That man is a piece of work. He’s as far from Tony as you possibly could have chosen, and I’d expect him to be a good sight harder to love.” She looked at Nathaniel again, eyes bartender-wise. "But you are the same man, Nathaniel. And you chose him for a reason.”

As Phyllis moved on to serve and chat with other customers, Nathaniel looked into his glass and considered what she’d said. It was easy, six years after his death, to remember only the best parts of his relationship with Tony. It was easy to forget their infrequent fights. Things with Tony had never been hard the way they were with Justin, but, at the beginning, he and Tony had to learn each other, too.

When Justin wasn’t in front of him, infuriating him, provoking him to anger he later regretted, Nathaniel found it easy to sympathize with Justin’s position. It was quite a thing to change your whole life in a matter of weeks, to quit the profession to which you’d dedicated your life and start over. Nathaniel knew something about that himself. And for Justin, it wasn’t just a matter of changing jobs, but of reorganizing his entire life, of discontinuing an entire way of being. His charges, his whole household, had run around his position as the Seer of London, and it was, abruptly, done.

More than any of that, though, Nathaniel had to consider his own place in Justin’s whirlwind of changes. Just as Justin was chipping through the barriers Nathaniel built around himself after Tony’s death, so, too, was Nathaniel desperately trying to climb the walls around Justin. After each drop, he found another layer of protection. Justin had no more idea than Nathaniel did how to conduct himself as part of a duo--less, probably.

Nathaniel sighed and tipped the last of the gin down his throat. They were quite the pair. He thought of paying Phyl and going back to Hanging Sword Alley, of entering under Sukey’s reproachful gaze, of trying again to talk to Justin. The idea was exhausting. Tomorrow might be better. His own rooms, cold and empty, appealed even less. He turned and looked around the room.

Mark, who’d suffered his own dose of Justin’s worst side that day, was nowhere to be seen. Just as well--Nathaniel hated nothing so much as trying to referee between them. Clem and Rowley had come in while Nathaniel was feeling sorry for himself, though. He hesitated to join them, as they sat close together in the corner, but Clem caught his eye and waved him over. Nathaniel stood, a bit unsteady, and crossed the room.

Clem and Rowley were good company when one was a bit sozzled and a lot down. Neither of them felt the need to talk overmuch, and when they did, picking a path through Clem’s meandering stories gave Nathaniel’s brain a welcome focus.

It was an hour or so later when Clem, sitting across from Nathaniel and facing the door, raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in alarm. Nathaniel turned toward the door to see Justin, looking stubborn and unsure, and possibly in his cups as well. He was soaked through--the rain must have started after Nathaniel came inside--and his boots squelched as he walked across the room.

Justin ignored everybody else in the bar, his eyes focused only on Nathaniel. Three thoughts crowded Nathaniel’s brain in rapid succession. _He’s beautiful. He doesn’t look angry. He’s going to make a scene._

All three were true. “I have things to say to you.” Justin’s voice was calm and measured, though louder than it needed to be. “I’d prefer you come with me to hear them, but I will say them here if have to.” His jaw was set.

Nathaniel rose slowly, forced to lean on his chair to keep himself up straight. He nodded slowly. “Nobody here should be forced to listen,” he said, voice more severe than he’d intended. “Let me get my coat.”

They walked to Nathaniel’s rooms in complete silence. Walking in step with Justin was a habit now, but Nathaniel was petty enough to increase his stride, forcing Justin to hurry to keep pace. Justin must have noticed, but he said nothing.

Inside, it was as cold as expected, the fire barely crackling. Rather than tend it, Nathaniel turned to face Justin as soon as they stepped inside. “What do you want to say? What was worth humiliating me at the Jack?”

Justin smiled, nasty. “You would think that humiliation, princeling.” He shook his head. “What must it be like to be you? So sheltered that -"

Nathaniel cut him off. He was drunk, he was tired, and he was in no fucking mood. “Spare me the speech about how easy my life is and how hard it is to be you. I’ve already heard it.”

Rather than responding with another round of insults, as Nathaniel fully expected, Justin nodded slowly. “I’ll spare you all the speeches,” he said. He pressed his lips together. “You and I have gotten too twisted around each other’s bad spots. We’re in a knot, and every day we make it tighter.”

Nathaniel considered the words. This sounded a lot like Justin beginning to end things. His stomach lurched and he opened his mouth, but Justin held up a hand, continuing. “We try to talk about it, and we make it worse.” He pushed his too-long fringe from his eyes and looked at Nathaniel hard. “We need to stop talking.”

Confused, Nathaniel again tried to speak, but Justin stepped forward, unflinching, and laid a hand on his chest. “That day in the country, when you fucked me over the railing, everything tied up inside me pulled so tight the bonds broke. I could see it all laid out in front of me--you, a different life--and I could see how easy it would be to fall. You hurt me and you held me up and I felt…” He took a long, raspy breath. “I felt scared and I felt challenged and I felt punished and I felt...free.” He met Nathaniel’s eyes again, his own impossibly wide. “I want you to do it again.”

“You want me to…?’” Nathaniel’s brain worked more slowly than he’d like, thanks in part to the gin and in part to Justin’s pleading eyes.

“I want you to fuck me.” Justin sounded neither ashamed nor afraid. “I want you to fuck all of this anger and frustration into me. I want you to stop telling me what to do, and I want to stop baiting you, and I want you to show me how hard this is for you.” He looked briefly unsure, but then continued. “I thought I would manipulate you into doing it, taunt you until you were furious. But I don’t want to do that this time. You said you’d give me shelter, and this is what I need.” He took a step closer, his mouth inches from Nathaniel’s, “We’ve tried this as men. Now let’s try it as beasts.”

For a moment, Nathaniel’s mind flashed red, warning him of the danger in the path ahead. Warning him that even now, trusting Justin was something much more difficult than loving him. Things were so often traps, he wondered if Justin even set them by intention. But then Justin’s body was pressed against his, his prick already hard. His wild eyes searched Nathaniel’s face and Nathaniel knew there was no point in attempting to deny him.

Things blurred, going in and out of focus as Nathaniel let his body take over. He picked Justin up as they kissed, tongues dueling, teeth at each other’s lips. Justin wrapped his legs around Nathaniel’s waist and allowed himself to be carried, then deposited on Nathaniel’s desk, papers pushed to the floor. Nathaniel’s mind had no chance of keeping up with his hands, desperate now to grasp whatever part of Justin he could reach, pulling at his clothes, reddening his skin. Justin tipped his head back and allowed access to his pale throat, and Nathaniel sucked a dark bruise there, shoving his hand roughly between Justin’s legs.

The noise Justin made was more growl than moan, and he pushed up into Nathaniel’s hand, demanding. “The night we first met, you wanted to fuck me over the seance table,” he hissed, his mouth at Nathaniel’s ear. “You wanted me, and you hated me. Show me now.”

_I don’t want to hate you_ , Nathaniel thought, but it was too late to be squeamish. He pulled Justin forward by the hair, kissing his mouth again, hot and hard, as his other hand worked the fastenings of Justin’s trousers. Justin’s body was pliant as Nathaniel forced him to turn over, pushing his clothing down just enough to get to his arse. Justin exhaled sharply as Nathaniel’s thumb ran down his cleft, pushing slightly in, dry, testing.

“Don’t fucking move,” Nathaniel ordered, backing off long enough to find the little jar of slick and loosen his own trousers. Justin stayed as he was, bent over the desk, breathing hard.

Nathaniel started with his fingers, holding Justin’s back down with one hand while he pumped the other in and out of his body, ungentle. Justin pushed back with equal force, heedless of the noises he made. “Fuck you,” Justin panted. “Give me more.”

Nathaniel barely took the time to slick up his cock before replacing his fingers with it, pushing in hard right away, made even harder by the pained noise Justin made. He laced one hand in Justin’s hair as he thrust, pulling his body into an arc and keeping him from moving. “Is this what you wanted?” Nathaniel asked, speaking to distract himself as much as anything else. “Can I fuck the anger from you? Fuck the lies out?”

“Ahhh, ahh, yes. I don’t know. YES!” Justin was incoherent, his body rocking against the wood of the desk, sharp hipbones slamming into it with each thrust. “Yes! Fuck!”

Without the fear of tumbling over the railing to stop him, as it had before, Nathaniel lost control. His mind emptied completely as he thrust, hard and without rhythm, his own incoherent babbling joining Justin’s as he approached his climax. “Fuck you,” he heard himself say. “Fuck you. I hate you. God, I love you. I hate you.”

It ended as suddenly as it began, with Justin’s body shaking nearly apart as he came against the desk, Nathaniel not stopping his relentless assault for even a moment. When Nathaniel emptied inside him a few minutes later, the overstimulation of his whole body had tears in Justin’s eyes, his moans slowing to pants.

Nathaniel slumped to the floor, his body as drained as his mind. He remembered, in bright detail, the first time Justin fucked him, in this very room, their words to one another similar, but the feeling so different, so much less.

Justin slipped off the desk, joining Nathaniel on the floor. His body was red, already bruising. His eyes were bright. To Nathaniel’s surprise, he crawled up his body and wrapped his arms gently around Nathaniel’s neck. “I am trying,” he said softly, his lips ghosting over Nathaniel’s cheek. “It’s harder than I expected, but I am trying.”

Nathaniel felt himself nod. “I know. Me too.” He wrapped his arms around Justin’s back, feeling him shiver. “Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight. I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed with you.” He tilted his head up as much as he could, finding Justin’s hair with his lips. “We can fight again tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day. But not anymore tonight.”

They didn’t bother to stoke the fire before they retired, their bodies tight together under the pile of quilts. It, too, could wait until the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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